Dog as decorator

Written last night:

I moved an old ottoman in the bedroom about three feet to the left, and Zing is nonplussed. He used to leap onto it easily and jump from there to the bed. I didn’t think of Zing when I moved it. (Don't tell him, but I don’t really want to think of Zing when I arrange furniture). But for now I’m going to move it back where it used to be to make things easier on him.

I’ve got so much more energy to do this stuff now: today was kitchen and bath -- counters and sinks -- and also window shades. Where possible, I copied what we’d done in our Tallahassee kitchen renovation. In the process I got to deal with two great sales people, Scott and Mykelle. Scott (whose last name is Lutheran!) told me his evolution of belief from reluctant evangelical child to adult “kind of pagan” believer in something/someone out there. I like to hear people’s spiritual journeys; at the beginning of 2016 I decided to “collect” them by asking questions and listening. It was really no more than an intention; by the time Clark died I hadn’t acted on it. But now people are telling me their stories even without me asking. I guess you could say I’m a confused believer myself. As I write this I see that I’ve pretty much abandoned certainty, or anyway clarity. But that could change. 

So much for window hangings!

When I go out now I let Zing “decide” to be in his crate with the door closed. Yesterday he opened the door from the inside two times. Today I wrapped velcro around the wires to shut the crate securely. Again, he met me at the front door, chewing on velcro strip. Susan suggested I get a spring hook, so I headed for the nearby Ace Hardware, tying cords around the crate door in two places with double knots before I left. Of course,Zing had loosed them from inside and greeted me at the door again. (At least he must stop barking when he is busy getting the crate open.) Tomorrow we try the hardware.

I drew this self-portrait in August
It's one of the few things I drew then
I'm just beginning to draw again